


Price of Silence

by Acidqueen (syredronning)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-01
Updated: 2003-06-01
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen
Summary: Valeris remembers and reflects about Spock and his relationships.





	Price of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge I was given by Farfalla: What if Valeris would spy on the lovers Kirk and Spock in ST VI? Write from Valeris' POV.

_At first, I only saw his uniform_  
_It was so unusually disordered, I could recognize it only_  
_by the small IDIC pin_  
_that often stuck next to his shoulder blade._

You always looked so good in it; I was enthralled by you from the day we met. I could barely breathe; every word crawled over my tongue so slowly, unwilling to leave my mouth. My hands were wet as no Vulcan's hands should be, but gladly you did not expect a shake. Saavik had told me of your qualities, as officer and Vulcan, but she had not spoken of your charm, the hidden smile in your dark eyes, your hands that sometimes danced over the table as if they had a life of their own until they folded neatly before your chest again, tamed by your disciplined mind. I had wondered if she loved you, but from the moment I met you, this was no question any longer. How could she not have loved you.

 _The next thing was the sound, so small,_  
_a moan barely, hanging in the air_  
_like a breeze over Vulcan's Forge, or over Terran sea_  
_My ears turned dumb on it._

I had never heard you moan before, or even whisper. We were all professional, and you were all Vulcan. The best of this world, though some said differently. You became my mentor because of her, and you took pride in me. Regularly we met, and I listened to your advice and to your stories about the ship that was the first to finish a five-year-mission. Ah, how your pride showed up there too, carefully hidden, yet so obvious to me. And it made me smile in my mind where my face was not allowed to show it. 

_A leg, another one, so different the colors_  
_entangled, unmistakably. I've never known_  
_that he had that much hair on his leg,_  
_and I wished it was my leg it would rub along._

How often had I asked her then if she had touched you, joined you on the burning planet of your rebirth. Oh, I can count as well as she, the famous Saavik, the gifted Saavik, the Saavik who is so Vulcan to the outer world. She never answered this, but in the end she told me that you had rejected her. And although her words came crisp and short, I could feel how deep the loss still went. And in the end, freely she gave way to me, withdrawing from the gaping cut by cutting even deeper. 

_His body covered him, the one I originally_  
_had seen as likewise minded, yet_  
_seeing them like this, all regrets I may have felt for him_  
_vanished into nothingness._

Of course I had known of your best friend Kirk, the captain of the ship that was always in your mind. I should have guessed something was wrong when Saavik never talked about him. One single night she spoke to me about his son. I think her shame has never ceased, since there was nothing she could do to seal the wound; while Klingon blood would have appeased the Romulan in her, the Vulcan rules told differently. And so she learned to adapt to words that were not hers, and blamed herself instead. One's personal hell is made by following the wrong paths.

 _I could not see_  
_if their lips met in a kiss, but the angle_  
_spoke for itself_  
_And I licked mine, wondering if his were just as warm._

How many missions have you both shared? More than I could add in that moment where all seemed to freeze inside of me. Why had I never questioned the impossible? It truly never came to my mind; I could not even think that far, as Vulcan rules as strictly limited my world as now the walls limit my body. Blindness is a thing of the mind, they say, and endlessly blind I was, not matter how long I watched the play of the daylight in your features or how deep I drank your gaze. All I saw was what I wished to see, hope lightening your eyes and craving coloring your lips until I didn't see their true appearance any longer. 

_They moved in the flowing way of long-probed_  
_harmony, his thighs so tight and tensed with_  
_every languid shifting_  
_In me, all cried out to touch his skin._

Never had I let anyone come so near to me as I had let you; for you I tore down the long-built fences, the barricaded doors. I threw into the wind the warning whispers of my brain and with them I threw away the mines that had lain around my core, preventing everyone from entering. A gift I gave to you like no one ever got from me, and I unfolded like a flower in the morning, awaiting your sun on its leaves. How freely did I breathe when I sat at your side, my guarded eyes so little hiding the burning deep inside - or so I thought.

 _He whispered his name_  
_a single syllable that clung of_  
_love and passion and a lifetime_  
_of commitment._

Love came so easy in the end, and though I fought against it, it was a fight I had to lose. A Vulcan was not made to live alone, and I would be the one to fill that empty place. In my dreams you were already mine, and all that stood between us was mere politics, a minor disagreement that I knew would solve as soon as war would rage. Side by side we would defeat them, the ship's bridge our place to join in victory. No peace in our time, I thought, and many whispered in my mind, supporting what I didn't dare to speak aloud. And I still believe I'm right, and you're too blind to see. So blindness comes with every wishful thinking.

 _In the end, I could no longer watch_  
_the pain inside of me but a small_  
_inverted mirror of their happiness_  
_I would get rid of Kirk, and he would be my prize._

A prize indeed I got. I remember well the sharpness of your mind in mine as you forced upon me the meld. You did it without hesitation, just by a single order of your lover. So much for your ideals, you hero of my past.

They came for me the day before and told me that the meld did never make it into the report; so he protects you and your spoiled honor with a lie of his, which surely does not hurt him as much as it hurts you. Can you sleep well at night, or do I hunt you down sometimes, and you wake up and whisper my name until he holds your hand? You dream, I'm sure, like no other Vulcan does, of love and death and of his lips.

The cell is dark, but even darker is my mind. And it is good this way. The darkness makes my pain sleep, and turns into dreams the reality I cannot face day after day. My body once was touched by Klingons' hands, my mother's blood on the floor beside me; on the bridge that day, my soul was touched by you, and I could see that blood again. It was so green on that gray floor; I still don't know how I could see it, while all the time your eyes were probing into mine as if your mind could bridge our distance simply by the burning anger of your hurt pride.

Tomorrow, their verdict will sentence me to prison, I'm sure. I'm also sure that you won't be there to face me. How would you be able to take a seat in their front and look into my eyes; a Vulcan who loves a man and raped a woman. And everyone stays quiet, although everyone knows. And I will pay the price of silence.


End file.
